


Five Times Kissed

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times (and a few more) that Ling and Lan Fan kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Kissed

**Author's Note:**

> originally sent in as a prompt on my rp blog, decided to tidy it up and post it on here as well! Also - if it wasn't clear in the text, Ling is trans male, and Lan Fan is trans female.

** ONE.  ** They are thirteen years old, and Ling has just been announced as the Emperor’s twelfth _son_  rather than his _daughter_. A feast is being thrown as celebration, and Ling figures it’s a good enough reason as any to eat his weight in food. Lan Fan, unmasked, is seated beside him (seated, because he won’t take for anything else from her - she is his protector now, and what better way to show that than sitting _by his side_? there’s no one else he’d want here - no one else who personally knows the courage it takes to say you aren’t who you were thought to be) and there is a feeling of lightness in his chest that he can’t quite rid himself of — though he doesn’t want to, because he hasn’t felt _this happy_  in as long as he can remember — he is accepted, Lan Fan is with him, and there is a feast: that is all he needs. 

There’s music playing, guests are chatting among themselves (he imagines some might be speaking ill of the new _prince_ , but they mean little to him in the grand scheme of it all). Despite his want to celebrate, he is silent beside Lan Fan: it’s easier to be silent when they’re together. His gaze flickers to her, then to the food, then back to her. He supposes that it’s just the pure joy of the occasion, or because he’s not done it before - he’s not certain; but he leans over to press a kiss to her cheek. A flush tints her cheeks, and he’s certain that same color fills his own face. But before it can be talked about, he turns back to his food.

** TWO.  ** Ling is quite certain that he’d like to marry Lan Fan. It isn’t the first time that he’s thought about it, and he’s sure it won’t be the last, but this time is the _clearest_. She has been his most loyal companion, officially, for a year now, and his closest friend for much longer than that. What prompts this now, however, is them lying side by side under a sea of stars. While he does get privacy, sometimes a greater privacy is needed, outdoors, away from it all. Lan Fan, ever loyal, comes with him, and he doesn’t mind it - better her than Fu. It is silent, save for the chirping of insects and gentle hum of the breeze. 

     “Lan Fan?” he asks, breaking the silence of the night.   


     “My Lord?” comes the reply, ever the same.  


     “Would you marry me?” the question comes before he can really hope to stop it, though after he says it, he finds he didn’t want to stop it to begin with.  


     Silence. He’s beginning to regret it, but then she speaks, and he regrets it all the same. “You shouldn’t joke like that.”

     “I’m not- I’m not joking, Lan Fan.” He’s suddenly worried that he’s upset her. “I’m serious. Would you?”   


     Silence again, and Lan Fan sits up - there’s an expression on her face that he doesn’t enjoy, it’s one that shows clear embarrassment, the sort he sees on those being _made fun of_. “I don’t see why we should have this discussion when we both know-” 

     Ling cuts her off with a kiss, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, truly; he’s never kissed _anyone_  like this, never had the desire to. But he doesn’t want to hear about this, doesn’t want to hear her say she _wouldn’t_ because she _couldn’t_ \- or worse yet, that she didn’t appreciate the ‘joke’. His hands are awkwardly on her shoulders, the angle turning her torso towards his own, and he imagines that this isn’t comfortable for either of them. It’s then he pulls away, standing up and extending his hand for her.

     “It’s late. Let’s go back, Lan Fan.”  


     She doesn’t take his hand, just stands up and nods, posture straightened as she leads the way back to the palace. But Ling decides, in that moment, when he is Emperor things will change.

**      THREE.  ** They’d come to Amestris for immortality, but instead Ling is reminded that death is something that can touch even the strongest of people. Lan Fan isn’t dead, but she could have been. All because she came to Amestris with him. Her arm is gone, and though she is just as important to him like this, he knows she doesn’t think so. He wants to reach out, touch the now-rounded remain of where her arm was - but he knows she is still in pain, knows that to touch her like that would mean this is real (he knows it’s real, but he doesn’t want that second confirmation). He knows Fu will be upset - not at him, perhaps, but at Lan Fan, and that causes even more guilt to pool in his belly. 

     Lan Fan doesn’t blame him, and he is frustrated because of that. But she is disoriented and tired, so he’ll pretend that’s the reason rather than her loyalty to him. It’s time for them to go now, though, and his thoughts are disrupted by that. His arms are around her to help her move, and his head turns, a kiss pressed to her temple - his lips linger there for a moment, and he wishes he could do more. _I’m so sorry_ , he thinks, before passing her into more capable hands. Helping the Elric brothers with this one thing may not help Lan Fan get her arm back, but if it means to ultimately take down Bradley? It’s worth it. 

     “Look after Lan Fan,” he says, and he pretends not to hear her protest of _my lord_! as he retreats.   


**FOUR.** The fighting is done, or as done as it can ever be. Greed is gone from within him though Ling knows that the homunculus will forever be part of his core. Fu is dead, and Ling, once again, blames himself. But no one else does - this was Fu’s sacrifice, after all. But it doesn’t stop the sadness from spreading in his chest on their way back to Xing. The next Emperor will be a Yao, the next Emperor will be _him_ , but that satisfaction is dulled. May Chang offers comfort, though not hours before she called him ** _greedy_** for wanting to protect the clans - for wanting to protect everyone. He thinks now that she’s right on that, for man doesn’t need the embodiment of greed in order to be greedy 

     Lan Fan is silent, but her silence is a sense of melancholy - of mourning. His heart aches for her. The trip to Xing is silent in general, at least until the familiar sense of _home_  hits all of them. He sees May smile, and a smile of his own curls a corner of his mouth. And then he sees Lan Fan smile, and his heart feels full. Fu may be dead, but they’re still alive. And that has to be enough. 

     It’s later that night, though, when the two are alone, that he speaks to Lan Fan as his friend rather than his guard (commands aren’t his strongest point when it comes to her, but preparations had to be made for Fu’s funeral the following day - Ling insisted he have the finest planned as quickly as possible) for the first time since they arrived back to Xing. 

     He doesn’t know what to say, however, as anything he wishes to say sounds like sympathy. So he murmurs her name, and opens his arms. She steps into his embrace, and he holds her as close and as tightly as he dares. His face buries into her hair, and he takes comfort in her still being here, automail arm and all. They stay like this for a long moment, and he’s content with it, but there’s more that needs to be said, more that needs to be done. “Lan Fan,” he says again, barely above a whisper, though he knows that she catches it from her soft response of _Ling_  - not _my lord_. 

     “I love you.”  


     He knows that she knows - he’s loved her since the beginning. And he knows that she loves him, too —— because loyalty only goes so far: love, however, goes a long way. She doesn’t answer him, and that’s fine by him; her head tips up so their eyes can meet, and what he sees there fills him with hope for a future that he will work like Hell to create. 

     It’s an invitation, and he knows it. So he dips his head down, and their lips meet - not for the first time, but for the first time it means anything other than silence. It’s a slow kiss, because now they have the time, now they’ve _earned this_. His hands come up to cup her face, thumbs stroking against dampened cheeks (he’s always hated when she’s cried - he hates it now). Soon, his hands move down to stroke against her neck, down to her shoulders (he pauses when it comes to where her flesh meets heated automail - a twinge of regret), but he continues down, wanting to touch, to feel what he hasn’t been able to feel before. 

     Her hands stop his when they try to rest on her hips, and she pulls from him. Her eyes are wet, but there’s a small smile on her face. “It’s late, my Lord. You should rest.” 

    “Yes,” he says, feeling rather breathless, but absolutely pleased. His hands take hers in a grasp, and he nods back towards the palace. “Come with me.” 

     So the night ends with them, in Ling’s bed. It isn’t an intimate thing, really; he’s holding her close, unconcerned with the whispers that may come from him taking his **guard** into bed. But he’s dealt with whispers about his personal life since he was a child; they’ll talk, and he’ll let them. They’re as unimportant as a common housefly, and the person who really matters is in his arms. 

**FIVE + a few more.** Being Emperor has its perks. Lan Fan is by his side, loyal as ever - and she is also the one who lies beside him at night, and wakes beside him each morning. She can’t be his wife - they won’t allow him to change that law, try as he may. But she can be his mistress, and though it’s not the same, it means they can be together like this Even his many wives know of her importance, they know that Lan Fan is the one who holds their Emperor’s heart. 

     It’s early evening, but late enough for them to retire. And so they have, wrapped up together in bed, the stress of the day gone as they find comfort in each other. When it’s like this, he thinks he’s strong enough to overturn the law - rid himself of the other wives and just take on Lan Fan. It’s what would make him happiest - even if they can’t have children (he’s uncertain if there’s any alkahestry that can assist them with that - not after all these years of treatment) he would be happy spending his life with her as his wife. But even if he can’t, even if he only has her as his mistress, he treats her just as he always has - as royalty to _his own eyes_  - and that will continue. 

     Their skin is bared, and Ling intends to take his time tonight, simply because he can. His lips only ghost over hers, focusing instead on peppering kisses against her cheeks, down her neck, shoulder. He still takes caution with the automail arm - it’s been **years** now and he’s since grown used to it, but one wrong move can be painful should his lips slip, but he still gives attention - lips press against the cool metal, trail down to press a kiss to artificial palm. Then, the same treatment is given to her remaining arm. She is soft beneath his lips, patient and waiting. When he’s done there, he comes back up, a kiss pressing against the dip in her collarbone. 

     Kisses are trailed between her breasts, hands come up to stroke where his lips haven’t yet reached. She’s responsive, little sounds of pleasure that spur him on. He’s ready to continue down, but Lan Fan’s hand grabs a fistful of hair, pulling him up, and his lips are against hers before it really registers. He laughs, but her lips cut him off (which, really, is fine by him). 

     Shifting, his hips line with her own. From then on, they move together, hands finding hands and fingers interlocking. This is what Ling lives for - not the sex, not the pleasure - but the intimacy that comes from _being like this_  with Lan Fan. The greed that still lurks in the pit of his gut that continuously wants  _more_  is sated - he is happy, content, and he has Lan Fan. 

     When they’re finished, sweat-slicked and exhausted, they lie together, her head on his chest, silence draping over them like a blanket. “I love you,” is murmured, a sleepy kiss pressed against his skin.

     He smiles, his hand coming to tip her head up. “I love you, too.” he says, and as their lips touch, Ling thinks that there’s nothing more he could ever want.


End file.
